How Do I Love Thee Read Online Free PDF Page B

grinned. “That's an interesting theory, Shayla.”
    “I wrote it up and it was published in a medical journal,” she said, sounding pleased with Brett's approval.
    “Now I'm
really
impressed,” he said. “Way to go.”
    By now they were parked at die edge of the wooded area. Brett carried the basket and Shayla the blanket as they made their way to the field. The grass had been mowed, and now the field looked flat and gray in the light of the crescent moon. Brett spread the blanket under the stars. Shayla took candles from the basket and lit them. The twinkling light cast a rosy glow on her face. Brett was struck by her ethereal beauty and swallowed hard. He wished he had the courage to kiss her, but he didn't.
    They ate the food she'd packed while night sounds of tree frogs and crickets surrounded them. “This is fon,” she said, nibbling on a grape. “I've never been on a picnic before.”
    “You mean a picnic in the moonlight,” he corrected.
    “No, a picnic
ever.”
    He wasn't sure why her confession pleasedhim so much, but it did, “There's plenty of things I'd like to do with you, Shayla.”
    She leaned toward him, her eyes shining in the flickering of die candles. “Tonight we did something I've never done before. Now it's your turn to do something with me you've never done before.”
    In Brett's mind, the list was endless, beginning with kissing her. “Such as?”
    “Wait until tomorrow night and I'll show you.”
    Shayla was at die foot of the steep road leading up to her driveway when Brett arrived the next night. “Park here,” she said, motioning to a spot next to her family's roadside mailbox. She was wearing a sweatshirt and handed one to him. “We ‘re going across the street.”
    “The ocean's across the street,” he said, taking her offered hand and jogging beside her over the deserted main road.
    “Things aren't always what they seem,” she whispered mysteriously.
    On the far side of the road, seawater splashed against a jumble of rocks, in the midstof which stood a small boathouse. Inside there was a wooden dinghy, complete with oars and a small motor. “Yours?” he asked.
    “Dad bought it for me when I was fifteen. I'd rather have a sailboat, but unless there's a gale, there's no wind at night.” They stepped into the boat.
    “I had one like this in the Keys. My friends and I used to take it out to the reef and skin dive.”
    “I use it to putter around offshore.” She pulled the starter cord, and the outboard motor sputtered to life.
    In minutes they were skimming across the glassy calm of a quiet sea. The night air was frigid on his face, and he was grateful for the sweatshirt. “You know where you're going?” he yelled above the roar of die motor.
    “Don't you trust me?”
    He gave her a thumbs-up, sat back, and enjoyed the ride. When they were far offshore and the lights along the highway and on the tip of the harbor looked like twinkling jewels, Shayla cut the engine. Brett heard waves lapping against the wooden sides of the boatbefore the water settled into calm again. Stars littered the night sky like white confetti. Shayla hunkered down next to him.
    “Where are we?” he asked.
    “We're inside a natural rock formation. You can't see the rocks because it's high tide.”
    “What if you hit a rock? Knock a hole in the boat?”
    “Relax, I've been coming out here for years. I know my way around. When the tide goes out, it's like you're inside a bowl.”
    “There's no way out?”
    “Not unless you're a seagull. But as soon as the tide comes back in, you float right out. Neat, huh?”
    “Not as neat as you,” he said. He reached for her, pulled her close, and felt the warmth of her body against his. “What do you do when you come out here?” he asked, pressing his mouth into her thick, dark hair which smelled like flowers.
    “I
think,”
she said, her voice trembling with emotion. “I think about having a regular life. I think about what I want to do with